


The First Step to Finding Happiness is Self-Acceptance

by doomcanary



Series: Mis Adventures [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomcanary/pseuds/doomcanary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/88428">Mis Adventures</a> universe. In which Porthos tries to be a good boyfriend and gets really, *really* confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Step to Finding Happiness is Self-Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> A light-heartedly cynical take on the eternal trans* pronouns issue :)

"Okay," says Mis as they're walking from the Tube station, "so just remember, you can't tell by looking and it's not rude to ask."

"About whether someone's a he or a she?"

"No - you ask what their pronouns are, there are more than just two options."

"Oh. Like what?"

"Well, Xander is a they, or at least he was last time, Sammy is sie and hir, I'm he except I don't mind they because it's respectful. I don't think we've got anyone who uses any of the other ones at the moment. The queer youth group is full of them, but they're teenagers,  what do you want." Mis shrugs.

"Hang on, how can this Xander be a he and a they both at once?"

"Oh he's not a he, he's a they, I just get really fed up with him - them - changing his mind. Their mind. Don't say I said that to their face, for god's sake, they think I'm enough of a nobber as it is. Journey of self-acceptance and safe space and all that."

"Nah, you're not a nob, you've just been a copper too long."

"Exactly. I live in the pragmatic world of ASBO cases and pub fights, not on the planet of the beautiful gender butterflies. You try telling that to the trans activist brigade though."

The word  _activist_ always makes Porthos think of the time he was involved in a road protest op in the 90s, not long after he'd joined the force; screaming crusties handcuffed to iron bars buried in the roots of trees, and a makeshift kitchen in the middle of a muddy tent town with the remains of lentil stew in a huge steel pan. Every cliche he could have imagined and then some. They round a corner and he sees a small crowd hanging round a doorway. None of them seem to be crusties. He's relieved.

"Here we are," says Mis.

Porthos is used to being the tallest one in the room, but he's the tallest one by a clear foot in this group. In fact Mis is one of the taller of the trans men. He feels a bit like he's stumbled into a school trip. One or two of them greet Mis as he arrives. Apart from a couple of out-there types with bright-coloured hair, they're all dressed in a kind of uniform - there's a lot of khaki about in the trans community, it seems, and also polo shirts and rolled-up cuffs on their jeans. He tries not to stare, but there are at least two noticeable minorities - men who look exactly like a butch lesbian would if she was a man, which is presumably because they used to be butch lesbians, and  _tiny_ little skinny blond queer guys in horrendously trendy jeans. And kids, which if he squints a bit he can kind of see are the ones who are still stuck as girls. Mis doesn't really seem to fit any of the stereotypes, although the picture on his driving license makes a lot more sense now. Porthos notices another black guy there; where he grew up a lot of the black families didn't have much patience with LGBT anything, especially the religious ones, and he's glad to see someone at least got out and found a life of their own. Oh, and there's a kid he would bet you a tenner is from Brixton, since he's dressed like a black guy despite being whiter than the Tory party conference.

There's a click and rattle from the door and the  _king_ of the diminutive blond queer guys opens it. He has fashionable spectacle frames and a rather nasal voice, and instantly starts picking familiar faces out of the crowd to help him set out chairs. Porthos gets the impression this evening is going to be weird.

 

* * *

Porthos was right; when he gets out into the fresh air again at the end of the meeting it feels weirdly like he's been in a sauna or something, or he's been ill and he's getting outside for the first time in days. 

"I really need a drink," he says.

Church halls should be about kids' playgroups and scout troops, not overheard workshops on words for bits of your anatomy and standing there holding a cup of nasty tea listening awkwardly to an argument about how useless free condoms are to men who don't have cocks. He'd been to a couple of youth group things himself when he first came out and he guesses in some ways every LGBT group is the same; strangers thrown together by a random coincidence that doesn't actually mean they have anything in common as people. It's weirder to be on the outside, if he's honest; most of the time he'd been in a side room with a couple of other partners who'd turned up, both women. They'd found plenty to talk about, but the gay/straight divide was just as obvious as it would have been in any room. People went on what they saw, not on the chromosomes, and the straight folks didn't have the same problems as him even if Mis was exactly as trans as their partners were.

He had, however, been right about the kid from Brixton.

Mis stops at a pelican crossing, stabs the button and rests his weight on one leg.

"Tell you what," he says. "Let's get a couple of beers, drink them on the train, then go home and fuck like  _completely_ boring gay blokes."

Porthos looks down at him. He looks stressed.

"You all right, Mis?"

He sighs. "I'm glad you wanted to see it, Port, but... I hate my so-called community," he says. "I'm as much of a misfit there as I was before I transitioned."

"Stick with me then," says Porthos. "We'll be all right." He tries not to let the way his heart's breaking show in his tone.

Mis leans his shoulder into Porthos's side for a moment. The crossing turns green and they head back towards the Tube.


End file.
